


And The Rest You Can Keep

by sugardumbfairy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More soft feels than horny, Non-Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), Past Relationship(s), unethical romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugardumbfairy/pseuds/sugardumbfairy
Summary: Dean is getting a divorce. He is maybe falling in love with his lawyer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 211





	And The Rest You Can Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Because fuck the finale. Hope you're all doing well.

“Normally I make a guy at least buy me dinner before he’s up my ass,” Dean jokes. 

The man across the conference table blinks at him. He’s brunette, with such piercing blue eyes Dean is half convinced that he’s wearing contacts. They match his tie. Compared to Dean’s work attire of jeans, Henley, and scuffed jacket, he almost looks like a different species. Castiel Novak. Attorney at Law, and Dean’s new lawyer. 

Dean clears his throat in the awkward silence that follows his joke falling flat. "Anyway, taxes,” he says, picking up the form that Castiel had put in front of him. He squinted at it, hoping that the man might take pity and explain it. It was like trying to read Latin. 

“Yes,” the man says gravely, and Dean suppresses a quip about how he’s the one whose world is ending. “I read over the notes that my assistant took when you called, but I’d like to hear from you.” Dean rubbed his eyes and started from the beginning. 

This wasn’t exactly where Dean thought things would end up. He had met Lisa shortly after he started his first job, when he was still incapable of growing facial hair and she had just had Ben. They had hit it off and been together ever since. He had raised Ben like his own, and they had been a family. He had kind of figured that they would just stay that way forever. Or at least, that’s what he thought until one day out of the blue she said, “I think we need a break.” 

“We?” He’d said, not looking up the engine he was working on. It was petty, but if she wanted out, she was going to have to say it. He shrugged, “I’m fine.” 

“ _ I.  _ I need a break.” And there it was. 

He stayed with Sam and Jess the first few nights, convinced it was all temporary. He ignored the business cards of law firms Sam kept pushing on him. Ignored Jess's sympathy. And when the only reason Lisa called was to talk about the books she had been reading- about successful co-parenting, about the effects of divorce on children in the home- he started ignoring her phone calls too. He picked Ben up from soccer practice like usual and drove him home, dropping him off at the curb. 

Lisa’s calls increased (all forwarded to voicemail) and then stopped altogether. The day that Dean received the papers in the mail was the day that he finally called a divorce attorney. 

“She can have whatever she wants. I don’t care about alimony or anything like that,” Dean said. 

“Mr. Winchester-” 

“Dean,” he corrects automatically. 

“I understand that this is an emotional process, but it’s important to consider the long term-” 

“Long term consequences? Little late for that, buddy,” he gestures around the room with his finger. “All I want is visitation with my son and to keep my car.” 

“What about your other assets? The house, for instance?” 

“I built that house for Lisa and Ben to have a home. It’s hers.” 

Cas made a note on his legal pad, not taking his eyes off of Dean. The staring was unnerving. Maybe it was some tactic they taught them in law school. He had at least a day’s worth of stubble. Sort of a rougher look that Dean thought most lawyers went for, but it suited him. He probably was the scariest motherfucker in court. His ring finger was bare. 

“Have you done this yourself?” Dean asked. “Gotten divorced, I mean.” 

“Not in the traditional sense,” Cas said, and his eyes dropped to the legal pad in front of him as he wrote down an additional note. Dean couldn’t read the writing upside down, but he could see that Castiel wrote in capitalized block letters, that the ink of the nice pen he was using bled slightly. 

The rest of the meeting passed quickly with Cas explaining the likelihood that their case would be resolved through mediation as a settlement seemed possible and blah, blah, blah. Dean tuned him out at a certain point. He had told Cas what he wanted out of the deal: Ben and his Impala. That was it. Cas gives him his business card, and Dean neglects to tell him that Sam had already given him three in the buildup to receiving the divorce papers. 

* * *

The next few months pass in a blur. He dates, some, casually. Loses interest in all of them after the first night. Dean moves into a new place. It’s not great, but it’s better than staying in Sam and Jess’s spare bedroom. His contracting business stays busy, and he hires on another person. Lisa texts him. He doesn’t respond. The divorce proceedings carry on. Some formality falls away with his lawyer when Dean starts their next conversation by saying _ lay it on me, Cas.  _ He texts him when he has questions, and receives stilted, overly formal replies full of typos like Cas’s thumbs are too big for the keys or something. 

**Dean** : I’ve got those papers you asked for. Want me to drop them off tomorrow? 

**Cas** : YES. 

**Dean** : ...all caps again? 

**Cas** : HOW DO I UNSHIFT 

**Cas** : IN COURT TOMORROW

**Dean** : I’m starting to think I’m overpaying you. 

**Dean** : Would it be better to drop them off this evening? 

**Cas** : I’m at the 🥖mistake

Dean stares at the baguette emoji for a couple of minutes before he realizes that Cas meant The French Mistake, a bar he had mentioned before to Dean, and not a “long bread mistake.” 

Dean doesn’t know if it’s an invitation, but he’s never been one to turn down a drink. He finishes up his work and then heads over. It’s upscale, nicer than he’s used to frequenting. His leather jacket and work books draw a few glances, and he gives them an easy grin to unruffle their expensive feathers. 

“Dean,” Cas says, his voice measured. He’s seated at the bar, knees sticking out at odd angles, tie loosened considerably.    


“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, dropping on the seat beside him and tossing the papers on the bar. “We’ve got to work on your texting skills. I thought you were having a Panera emergency.” 

Cas nods, but looks oddly distracted. Normally his gaze is his laser focused onto Dean, and Dean finds himself a little ...disappointed by the lack of attention. No, not disappointed. Just, surprised. Concerned. That’s all. 

“Long day?” Dean asks, taking in the slump of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. 

“You could say that.” 

Dean orders a drink and then turns to Cas. “I’m all ears.” 

For a second Dean thinks he’s not going to say anything. “I saw my brother today,” Cas says finally. “For the first time in … a long time.” He looks at Dean, and Dean basks in the moment before Cas’s glance slides away and feels the cold of the spotlight leaving his face. “It didn’t go well.” 

Dean clears his throat. “I’m sorry, man.” He is, too. He can’t imagine what it would be like to have a brother that wasn’t… a brother. “That’s rough.” 

He glances around, looking for something to lighten the mood. There are a few women that were seated around the bar. All of them were attractive with dark eyes, long brown hair. “So this is where you come to pick up chicks?” 

“I don’t ‘pick up chicks,’” Cas says flatly, over exaggerated air quotes around Dean’s words. 

Dean grins. “Okay, I hear ya. What about…” he gestured vaguely around him. 

“I’m gay, if that’s what you’re asking, Dean.” 

“Oh. Good for you,” Dean says, nodding. Was that what he was asking? He didn’t even know. 

Cas takes a sip of his drink, and Dean turns to watch him. His hair is more ruffled than usual, his clothes creased from a day of appointments and paperwork. Cas looks ahead of him, not appearing to look at anything in particular, almost meditative in the way that he sat and held the glass in his hands. He takes another sip, his throat jumping with the swallow, and Dean looks away. 

His face feels hot, and he tries to think of the last time he’d gotten off. Clearly, it had been too long. 

When he looks up, Cas is looking at him, his pupils wide in the dim light of the bar. 

Dean starts talking before he knows what he’s going to say. “I don’t know what the deal is with your brother, but he sounds like a real asshat. I can’t imagine knowing you and not wanting to see you all the time.” 

“It’s always been that way with us,” Cas says. “Since we were kids.” 

“Well, his loss. I bet you were pretty great,” Dean says. “You’re not too bad now,” he tries and fails to keep his gaze on Cas’s face. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says. His voice is gravelly, and Dean feels like eight different kinds of fucked up that he can appreciate the soft curve of Cas’s mouth right after giving him a pep talk about what a great kid he must have been. 

The silence returns as they both nurse their drinks. Dean feels a sense of satisfaction of being given even a tiny piece of Castiel. Throughout the past few months, Dean has had to bear all, and the reciprocation is nice. He’s not sure if that’s the sort of the thought he should be having about his lawyer, but then again, Cas is not your average lawyer. 

“This isn’t ethical,” Cas says eventually, like it just occurred to him, and Dean can’t help but laugh at that, at  _ Cas _ sitting at a bar in a rumpled suit and tie, hair sticking up at odd angles, nursing what looked like a  _ long island iced tea _ with the same sort of rainman charm he had in the office. 

“Since when does a divorce lawyer care about ethics?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Cas says. That was probably true, but Cas makes no move to leave, and he doesn’t seem to be urging Dean to go anywhere either. At some point during their conversation, they had shifted closer towards each other, and Dean can feel the barest hint of a scratch on his knee where the rough fabric of his jeans scraped against Cas’s pant leg. Cas is openly staring at him, in a way that normally meant he is about to get laid, but it’s  _ Cas _ , and he always looks at Dean that way. 

He can’t sit here and moon over his divorce attorney all night, and finally his self preservation kicks in. “I should get home,” he says. 

Cas makes a noise of agreement and they both close their tab. Dean doesn’t really register the walk out to the car, but he very much registers Cas’s mouth on his in front of their cars. The scratch of the stubble against his face is exactly what he needs right now, and he’s realizing Cas might be exactly what he needs right now. 

“Where do you want to go?” Cas’s voice is so low that Dean mostly registers it as a vibration against his throat as Cas’s mouth wanders down his neck. 

He thinks about his sad studio apartment with takeout containers stacked in the fridge. He’s not even sure if he has a fitted sheet on his bed right now. “Your place,” he says quickly, and luckily Cas seems fine with that. 

The drive is short, and Cas’s place is nice in a minimalist-Swedish-serial-killer way, not that Dean spends long looking at the décor. Cas’s mouth is back on Dean’s the moment they enter the condo, and Dean presses him up against the closest wall. Cas’s mouth feels hot and slick against his own and - Dean grins at the absurdity - tastes like iced tea. Their kiss slows, and he thinks that maybe things will cool off for a little while, maybe they’ll have another drink before anything starts to happen, but then strong hands grab Dean by his jacket and spin him so that his back hits the wall with a thud. Dean groans, caught in the feel of strong hands against his waist, the smell of whatever expensive aftershave Cas wore. 

One of Dean’s hands is wrapped around Cas’s tie, pulling him close. The other is pressing against the small of Cas’s back and pulling his shirt free. The movement drives their hips together and they let out a combined groan that reverberates through their mouths. Cas grinds against him, and the last part of Dean’s brain capable of semi-coherent thought points out the Lifetime movie that is hooking up with his divorce lawyer, but that didn’t seem to make his dick any less hard. Even this thought fades away as Cas drops to his knees in front of him, hands still pressing Dean’s hips to the wall. The image of Cas’s throat bobbing as he drank at the bar flashed through his head, and then there is the sound of a zipper and then his cock is in Cas’s mouth and his hands are in Cas’s hair. 

They hadn’t bothered turning on the light when they came in, but there is enough light from the streetlight outside the window that he can see his fingers, bare of any wedding ring, threaded through short brown hair. Cas is looking right at him, like always. His eyes are dark and seem almost predatory in the way that he looks up at him, mouth obscene on Dean’s cock. 

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean gasps, and his own voice sounds ragged to his ears. Dean knows even with his eyes closed that Cas’s gaze stays on him the entire time. “I’m not really familiar with all this,” Dean gets out. “But I want you to fuck me.” 

“Don’t I have to buy you dinner first?” Cas says, his voice low, before his mouth is back on Dean’s cock, and Dean’s laugh is hijacked by another moan. 

The rest of the night is spent in Cas’s bed where Cas spreads him open and fucks him. Dean has his legs around Cas, one hand on the back of Cas’s neck, the other on his own cock. What they are doing is cliché, Dean knows that. Knows that this is only supposed to be a filthy one night stand that helps him rebound. That helps Cas heal whatever was broken in him. When Cas comes, he closes his eyes and rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, the first time that he has taken his eyes off of him, and nothing about this feels like a rebound to Dean. 

* * *

The next morning Dean wakes up from a call to Lisa, which he slips out of Cas’s bedroom to take. Both he and Lisa are there to talk to the principal that morning, and to chew Ben out when they take him home to start his three day suspension. Ben yells right back at them and then stalks off to his room and slams his door. They can hear him crying in his room. 

Dean starts responding to all of Lisa’s texts after that. When the topic of family therapy comes up in preparation for mediation, he almost refuses, thinking once again how stupid it was to slap the label “family” on everything that has to do with breaking a family up, but he goes for Ben. It helps. It forces him to talk to Lisa, and it forces Ben to talk to him, and it forces all three of them to realize that they still need each other. That’s family, after all. Family was Lisa and Ben. Sam and Jess. Mom and Dad, even though they were both long gone. 

While family has always been everything, home wasn’t really something that he’d had growing up.  _ Home _ was a burned out shell of a house.  _ Home _ was whatever motel where Dean’s head hit the pillow at night. That is one of the hardest parts of accepting it was over between him and Lisa, leaving behind the home they had built together. His shitty bachelor 2.0 studio apartment certainly isn’t home, not that he spends much time there. When he isn’t at work, he is usually with Ben, or, when Ben begs for a break from all of the forced family time, Sam. Nights are for Cas, and each time that he walks into Cas’s Ikea showroom of a living room, he feels like he gets a little closer to something like home. 

One night, they are laying in bed together when Cas says, “My brother called me today. He wants me to come over.” 

“And what do you think?” 

“I think,” Cas says, running his fingers across Dean’s arm, “that I don’t know yet.” 

* * *

**Cas** : I scored 

Dean stares at the message, trying to decipher what it could mean. Probably not drugs. Definitely not sports. Cas had been very clear that all of his fitness took place in solitude at the gym. Sex? 

**Dean** : TMI, but good for you

Cas sends him a picture, and when he clicks it, there is a video game screen. The shot is blurry, like someone had jostled the phone during the picture, or someone just was technologically incompentent. Dean’s money is on the second one. 

**Cas:** At Michaels 

**Cas** : Whats tmi 

Well, at least he hadn’t tried to touch the shift key this time. 

* * *

At the end of their last mediation session, Dean is tired and he knows Lisa is too. It’s the sort of thing you know after being married to someone for ten years. Despite Cas’s associate and Lisa’s lawyer explaining every step of the process, the legalese goes over his head. Dean signs when he’s told to sign, nods when it seems appropriate. Somehow this takes hours, but then his lawyer is congratulating him in the hallway and Dean is no longer legally a married man. 

“Thanks, man,” Dean says to his replacement-lawyer (as he thought of him). “This past year sucked ass, but it would have been a lot worse without your team.” He means Cas. 

He walks Lisa out to her car. It is quiet outside, the parking lot mostly empty and it is cold as the last rays of the winter sun faded away. 

They stop in front of her car, and Lisa turns to face him. “Thank you, Dean,” she says, holding onto her purse with both hands as she tries to shrug off the cold. He isn’t sure whether she is thanking him for finally getting his act together with the divorce, or whether she is just saying thank you for walking her to her car. She starts to move in for a hug and then stops. Dean pulls her in, smelling her shampoo that until recently he had been too accustomed to to smell. 

“Tell Ben I’ll see him on Saturday,” Dean says, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as they separated. He has only been divorce for five minutes, and he is probably already messing this up, but he doesn’t really care. 

“I will,” she says. She hesitates. The wind is blowing and she pushes her hair out of her eyes. “I just wanted to let you know I’m seeing someone,” she says, holding a hand in front of her face to keep her curls at bay. “I wanted you to hear it from me.” 

They look at each other for a moment. “Okay. Good,” Dean said, nodding. “That’s good. That’s really good.” 

“Yeah?” She says, and he could see the tension leaving her shoulders. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Uh, me too.” 

“Yeah?” She says again. 

“Yeah,” he says, and they look at each other for another moment, both half smiling. It’s awkward as hell, but it feels like it’s going to be okay. 

“Bye, Dean,” she says, unlocking her car. 

“Bye, Lisa,” he says. He opens the door for her, gently shutting it once she is situated inside. 

He turns toward where Cas is waiting, already knowing that his eyes would be right on him. 


End file.
